


The Ampersand Chronicles

by judithandronicus



Series: The Ampersand Chronicles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, Just Add Kittens, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judithandronicus/pseuds/judithandronicus
Summary: This is unrepentant canon-adjacent Bunker fluff, set in a universe where everything is kind of the same, except fluffier. Cas lives in the Bunker with Sam and Dean; things like Gadreel and Lucifer aren't a problem; and oh yeah, there's a cat.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Ampersand Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035867
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	The Ampersand Chronicles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeelyO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeelyO/gifts).



> My post-canon approach to the show is that dude from Mythbusters saying I reject your reality and substitute my own. And my own has cats and fluff. 
> 
> A gift for NeelyO to enjoy after conquering all the crap today.

“Could I get a cat?”

Startled, Dean looks up from his phone to see Cas slipping into a chair across the table. Who needs a fucking cat when you’ve got a goddamn angel sneaking around the place like that. He should put a collar with a bell on the feathery motherfucker.

“No.” Dean goes back to browsing recipes on his phone, but can feel that goddamn stare, anyway, like it’s boring holes through his skull. Dammit. He looks back up to see Cas doing that confused little head tilt, and goddamn, it is _not_ adorable.

“ _What?”_ It comes out a little harsher than he intended, especially combined with how he accidentally throws his phone onto the table. But the angel’s making squinty puppy dog eyes at him, and he was just caught a little off guard, okay? And sonofabitch, that just ratchets up Cas’ whole confused kicked puppy thing to an eleven.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and takes in a couple deep breaths.

“Ignoring the whole ‘I’m allergic to ‘em’ thing for a bit, why would ya even want a cat, man? They scratch shit up, and you have to clean out their shit from boxes, and what would you do with the damn thing when we ain’t here?” So, yeah, he’s starting to babble a little bit, but watching Castiel’s mouth harden into a determined line just throws him off his game. And it’s a bit too much for fuck o’clock in the morning when Dean hasn’t even finished his coffee.

“You know I eliminated your allergy when I remade your body after Hell, Dean.”

_Fuck._

“Still doesn’t get rid of the other shit.”

Cas rolls his eyes at him. “I would take entire responsibility for its care and maintenance, so you wouldn’t have to worry about ‘cleaning out their shit from boxes.’ And cats are quite intelligent, and with proper training and enrichment, wouldn’t ‘scratch shit up.’”

 _Why are those goddamn air quotes so cute?_ Dean shakes that thought out of his head, then returns to the task at hand. “What about all the magical crap we got around this place, man? I’m telling you, it just ain’t safe to have an animal roaming around where it could get into that shit.” _Boom, direct hit,_ he thinks to himself, all smug and self-satisfied as Cas opens his mouth and freezes, unable to fire off a quick counterattack. But then the angel’s face crumples slightly, and something squeezes tight in Dean’s chest to see it. _Fuck._

“Look, it’s just…it’s not—I mean, uh…I just don’t think it’s a good idea, okay?”

“Of course. I understand.” Cas isn’t looking at him anymore, is looking down at the table, and fuck if Dean don’t miss the weight of that million mile gaze. Cas’ chair squeaks against the floor as he pushes back from the table. His voice is barely audible as he continues, “ I apologize for bringing it up.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to do a goldfish impression, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get any words to happen, as he watches his best friend slouch toward the coffeemaker.

_Nice work, Winchester._

“Sam.”

Sam barely has time to register the flutter of invisible wings before Cas is there, all up in his personal space. It’s new and disconcerting; no wonder Dean used to get so worked up about it. Immediately, and unprompted, Cas takes a big step back. _Interesting_ , Sam thinks, filing that little bit of information away for later, before he takes a moment to really look at his friend. Cas is visibly anxious, and that, in itself, sets off a red flag.

“You alright, Cas?”

“I…I—“ The angel’s whole demeanor crumples as he drops his gaze toward the floor. He suddenly looks so much smaller. “I have a confession to make.”

 _Shit._ Sam does not have the time or energy to try and mediate yet another one of their stupid-ass squabbles. His jaw clenches of its own volition, and he pushes his tongue up against the roof of his mouth while taking a few slow, deliberate breaths.

Sam schools his face into his best imitation of neutral before he asks, “Have you talked to Dean about it?” Cas chews idly on his lower lip, darting his eyes up just long enough to make it clear that he hasn’t.

 _Don’t roll your eyes; don’t roll your eyes._ He succeeds, even if he can’t quite repress the frustrated sigh.

“So what did you do?”

“I…I,” Cas stutters, running a hand through his hair, again refusing to meet Sam’s eyes. “Perhaps it would be better if…if I showed you.”

 _Fuck it._ If he’s gonna stare at the floor like that, Sam’s not gonna hold back this time. He rolls his eyes, as dramatic as possible, before answering.

“Alright, man. Show me.”

Cas moves eagerly, almost desperately, through the halls of the bunker dorm; Sam is about halfway to a jog just to keep up. When they reach room 28, Cas comes to an abrupt stop that has him tripping over his own feet to avoid running into what would surely feel like a brick wall in a trench coat.

“Before we proceed,” Cas says, solemn and quiet, his hand resting on the doorknob, “I need your word that you will not tell Dean.”

“Uh.” Sam finishes that thought with a loud _look_ that has Cas shaking his head.

“Just until I’ve figured out a way to handle the situation. Please, Sam.”

“Okay, Cas.”

With one last furtive glance at the deserted hallway, Cas opens the door. Sam braces himself for…for fuck knows what, to be honest, and follows the angel inside.

“Be sure to close the door behind you,” Cas instructs, and Sam immediately complies.

“So what are we dealing with here?” Sam looms just inside the doorway while Cas does a quick scan of the room, then kneels down to look under the bed. “Monsters under the bed?” He chuckles a bit at his own joke as he watches Cas disappear halfway beneath the bed, muttering something unintelligible as he goes.

“Cas?”

More indistinct chatter, some backward wiggling…a small yelp after something (Sam assumes it’s Castiel’s head against the frame) goes thunk, immediately followed by what sounds like apologies…and then Cas emerges, his hair in even greater disarray, dust bunnies clouding around his head as he backs out.

“You okay, man?” Sam starts, “did you get zapped by something?” He crosses the room, ready to offer whatever aid he can to…someone with the power to heal themselves who probably doesn’t need his help for that sort of shit. _Oops_.

When he stands up, Cas is cupping both hands to his heart, his eyes locked on whatever it is he’s got in his grasp, a delicate smile toying at the corners of his lips. It’s rare to see Cas look so…so peaceful. It’s a good look for his friend, one that has Sam smiling back without even realizing it.

“Shh, you’re alright,” Cas is whispering into his hands, “I promise Sam is a friend.” Cas continues to murmur into his hands because, Sam realizes, whatever the fuck it is is _chirping_. That’s enough to bring Sam’s focus back to the task at hand.

 _What the fuck is Cas hiding from Dean?_ Sam hopes it’s not fairies.

Cas’ smile grows larger as he carefully moves one hand aside to reveal a small, grey ball of fluff snuggled up against his chest. When Cas scratches at the top of the fluff with his index finger, the ball starts to stretch and purr, pressing its head up into Castiel’s finger.

“Sam,” Cas begins, his voice an odd combination of proud and shy, “I’d like you to meet Ampersand.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why work on the projects with deadlines when you can come up with something utterly ridiculous about a kitten in the bunker? Come shout with me on [tumblr](https://judithandronicus.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/judithandronic1).


End file.
